What We're Like
by Mingsmommy
Summary: Grissom and Sara post "One To Go" Actions speak louder than words. Angst/Mature


**Rating: **Mature  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI or any of its characters. I am making no money. Seriously.  
**Spoilers:** Post iOne To Go/i  
**Thanks:** Kristen Elizabeth, beta, friend, supporter and therapist. She betaed, but I messed with it afterwards, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Along with Kristen Elizabeth, I also want to thank 4 ladies for the support and encouragement when I wasn't able to write, Alicat713, Cincoflex, Losingntrnslatn and Smacky30. Thank you all.

***

It was the dog that finally saved him.

Once she had recovered from her initial teary shock and those first welcoming kisses (her hand on his back searing him through his sweat stained shirt) Sara had been a strange combination of giddy and reticent.

He knew, he did. He remembered the same fear and joy…well, joy and anger? resentment? when he returned from Williams. It had taken her more than two weeks before he felt the last of her invisible walls fall away.

The smell of orchids and moist earth floated through the camp, and everywhere he turned there was more greenery. He had forgotten how beautiful the jungle was. After so many years in Vegas he may just have forgotten how beautiful the color green was. He noted all the various shades of plant life shading and shielding the camp. The wild tamarindo (Pentaclethra macroloba), the tonka bean (Dipteryx panamensis), the jicaro (Lecythis ampla), palms, lianas, epiphytes and mosses, all verdant and flourishing, teeming with life. His eyes touched on dozens, maybe hundreds of different plants without ever moving a step away from Sara's side.

Birds, some calling, some singing, made their presence known. But the sound of her breath and the thrum of his own heart were the most riveting of the noises. The monkey Sara had been photographing climbed back into the leafy canopy with a chittering farewell, leaving her and the camera in Grissom's embrace.

He was afraid for a moment that she was going to beat him with the camera when she stopped kissing him. Of course, it was a thought he'd never share with her, but he wasn't so sure, if the tables were turned, he wouldn't have the desire to strike out in frustration and adrenaline turned to anger.

_Why didn't you tell me you were coming? What took you so long? Why now? Are you really here? Am I crazy? Are you?_

But of course she didn't strike out, because she was Sara and Sara did her best to do what was best. But more than that, Sara loved him. Even when she was angry with him, even when she wanted to hit him, even when she wasn't sure what he was doing, she loved him. So she just kissed him again.

Twining her fingers through his, she introduced him to the group. It was then that she discovered that Dr. Lang had been expecting him. "Though, honestly, Dr. Grissom, I thought you'd be at the research station when we returned. I didn't expect you to join us in the field."

Grissom shrugged, looked at Sara and smiled. "I couldn't wait."

****

It took forever for night to fall. When it finally did and she lay down with him on the thick sleeping mats, with the heavy fragrance of the jungle surrounding the camp wafting into the tent, he tried to show her all the things he could never say.

He had never been very good with words. He didn't know how much of that had to do with growing up in silence and how much of it was his own socially stunted nature, but he clearly remembered his mother's hands signing, "Actions speak louder than words." In the past he'd wondered how much that old adage had impacted him as an investigator. He learned to trust the concrete, the evidence, what people did, not what they said. How much of being raised within the deaf community had made him see more than what people said?

So there, in the humid tent as he slowly undressed her, he wanted to show her. Words were meaningless. You could tell someone you loved them, that you'd miss them and then still leave them. His actions would tell her what his words never could.

He kissed her, over and over. He kissed her lips and her cheeks, spent a ridiculously delicious amount of time kissing, licking and nibbling her neck. Uncovering her skin little by little, he reveled anew at her body...the long, lean lines of arms and legs, the curve of stomach and breast, the wet heat of mouth and sex.

At one point, Sara attempted to reciprocate, but he pushed her back, whispering hoarsely, "No, let me. I want to show you." He showered her breasts with kisses and loved her nipples with his lips and tongue. He worshiped her, loved her, told her with his mouth and hands, tongue and fingers what he never could with words.

The slide of two thick fingers against her cleft let him know she was ready for him.

Physically, at least. Though she seemed a willing, an _eager_, participant in giving her body to him, he still felt some emotional reserve.

The musky scent of her arousal was hanging in the air around them, entwining with the aroma of the orchids that surrounded the camp, creating an erotic and exotic perfume. He rested between her thighs, pressing kisses to the curve of her shoulder and the corner of her mouth trying to get her to see, to feel how he felt about her. She was wet and he was hard. He was ready to move into her all the while trying to ignore the feeling that this was not showing her, that she wasn't ready, that he was rushing to make things normal between them.

It felt so good to press his skin against hers, felt so good to lose himself in the heat of her mouth, the smell of her hair, the feel of her fingers on him, the sweet taste of her earlobe, the salty taste of the skin of her stomach.

"Do you ever think this is what we've been like?"

He stopped. There between her legs with the head of his cock pressed against her, ready to make love to her, Grissom stopped. "What?"

"Like fucking." He hated that word; he never used it, winced when she used it, but Sara used it anyway. "Us…our relationship…it's like fucking."

He was raised over her, braced on his arms; he was hard, so, so hard, and he could only repeat himself. "What?"

"We meet, we pull apart, we come back together, then we do it all over again." His expression must have reflected the horror he felt, because she grimaced, wrapped a hand behind his neck and pulled him down into another kiss, mumbling, "Sorry." She gave a half laugh as she pressed a kiss to his chin. "It was just a bizarre thought. Forget I said it."

Grissom shifted off of her and onto his side.

"Gil! No, I'm sorry…"

Pulling her naked body back into his own, he pressed a kiss to the juncture where her long, graceful neck curved into her elegant shoulder. "Shh. It's ok."

She tried to look over her shoulder at him, but the angle was too awkward for their eyes to meet. "I'm sorry, it was just a weird thought." Her voice was filled with contrition and she tried to shift in his embrace but he held her to him. "I want to make love with you."

"It's all right, Sara. It's been a long day for both of us." He pressed another soft kiss to her shoulder. "Not everything has to happen all at once." He touched his lips to her shoulder blade; sharp angles and soft curves, his Sara. "We have time."

There was an uncertain silence that drowned out the nighttime jungle noise before she spoke in a hesitant whisper, "Yeah?"

Smiling wearily against her skin his tone was firm. "Yeah." He tightened his arms around her. "I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't answer, but he felt the squeeze of her hand on his arm and heard her release a slight, happy…he hoped…sigh. Not long after, he felt her fully relax against him and heard the shift as her breath deepened into sleep. Despite knowing something wasn't exactly right between them and not being sure how to fix it, other than just being there, the day, the week, the month, the year had been demanding and exhausting and he followed her down into slumber after just a few minutes.

***

The tent was well on its way to stifling by the time the zippers rasping open woke him the next morning. "Sorry," Sara smiled as she clamored back in from the outside. "I should have opened the vent flaps before I went to shower." Quickly she pulled several zippers along the interior of the tent, revealing large sections of mesh along the walls and as each was revealed, the smothering air was replaced by a fresh, cool cross breeze.

"Why didn't we do that last night?" He struggled into a sitting position, groaning out the objections of his muscles as he did so.

"Oh." He had forgotten how adorably she could blush. "It's just a little more private with the flaps closed." She wouldn't meet his eyes as she handed him a cool canteen and some ibuprofen.

"Thanks." He popped the pills into his mouth and chased them with a large pull of water. Noting her still flushed cheeks and the way her eyes skated away from his, he made his voice deliberately casual. "Let's remember to open them tonight when we come in here. No point in sleeping any hotter than we need to."

Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and as he watched her, she nodded. "Yeah. Good point."

"Now, Ms Sidle," he stretched and groaned again at the ache in his back and legs. "You should probably feed me before you show me around your jungle."

Over the next four days he reminded himself he had not come to Costa Rica for sex; he had come to Costa Rica for Sara, because she was his life. If she needed time to trust, time to readjust, well, he was just going to have to be patient.

They hiked during the day with the rest of the team which included Dr. Lang, a member of the Organization for Tropical Studies and academic head of the research center, an ecologist with two grad students from OTS at Duke University, and a biologist from neighboring Nicaragua. They took samples and photographs and discussed the prospective visitors and studies for the upcoming rainy season.

Sara seemed to enjoy showing him around as they talked of all matters, great and small. They shared camp chores and canteens and a sleeping mat, but through it all he felt a part of her was disengaged, standing back, observing him. All he could do was take her hand, be with her, talk of the work he planned to do at the research station and then jack off in the camp shower before coming to their tent to hold her chastely through the night. Until she was ready, it was the best that he could do.

He understood; he hated it, but he understood. And while he longed to do more than hold her, his sorrow came not at the loss of the physical contact, but the knowledge that she wasn't confident they would be together…easier to get out clean, heart still intact, without succumbing to physical entanglements.

Still, as she preceded him up the side of a hill, his eyes rested on the small of her back and he felt his forearm twitch in muscle memory of what it was like to rest there above the swell of her derriere, a casual, but proclaiming hold. As he observed the long lines of her body, stretched out underwater as they explored a small pool, he felt a fleeting ache in his chest as he remembered that long body stretched out on top of his own, warm and heavy, sated from making love. When the light from the lanterns flickered between them in the evenings, lighting her hair with gentle fire, he yearned to feel the strands slide like silk through his fingers again as he moved over her.

Occasionally, she would pause in what she was saying and meet his gaze and she would flush and stumble, looking away, sometimes moving away. He knew she could see the naked hunger he had for her but he didn't know how to tell her his desire was for more than the joining of his body with hers. It was desire to mend what he had broken, desire to hold what he feared beyond his grasp, desire to show his love to her in more than words, desire at last to put her at the center of his universe and orbit around her forever.

If she would talk to him about them, then perhaps he could find a way to fumble out the words, to pull some quote or concept out of the recesses of his brain to convince her; but she never brought "them" up. They talked all the time, from morning until late into the night about ecology, the Sea Shepherd organization, the Galapagos, the research station, the rainforest, the book she wanted to write, the book he wanted to write, the last case, the lab and everyone there.

_Actions speak louder than words,_ he reminded himself as he held her hand during the day and held her body against him at night.

The truth was, he doubted himself and every decision he was making. He had never had to woo her before. Not that Sara had been easy…god, anything but. But when he had finally gotten out of his own way and been ready for a relationship, she had been there and she had just…loved him. That had allowed him to just be with her and just love her back. It had been so easy. But it was easy because Sara made it easy; she hadn't expected anything from him, had been patient with him, tolerated his quirks and his moods and through it all, she had loved him. Even when her ghosts and demons had demanded that she leave him, she had still loved him.

Then the one time she had asked anything of him, he had refused. In another first, when she had refused to stay with him, he had struck out like a petulant child, in an ever so civilized, intellectual and deep manner, of course. Sure, he had a lot of excuses, but the fact of the matter was simple: he had not loved her as unconditionally as she had loved him.

Well, it was time to start.

He wasn't going to get scared because she wasn't sure; he was going to be there until she was sure. Then the two of them could spend the rest of their lives just being together.

Day five saw them packing up the campsite and headed back to the station. Shortly before lunch a somber man with brown, weathered skin walked into camp leading two pack mules. Camp was broken down quickly and efficiently, the mules bearing the bulkier pieces and everyone distributing the rest equally along with their own personal packs.

Handing him a carefully packed camera bag, Sara spoke with the mule drover in her halting Spanish and was answered with a wide and bright smile that changed the geography of the man's face from worn to full of life. Sara smiled in return, the full, beautiful smile he had not seen in so, so long and Grissom would have said his heart stopped except it could not have stopped and still make him ache from seeing the beauty of her whole and exuberant smile.

***

The trek back to the research station was less arduous and shorter than he remembered. Though he supposed the combination of having company and not being a complete nervous wreck in anticipation of seeing his beloved could have made the trip out seem shorter than the trip in. Of course, now there were other things to be nervous about. He knew from Miguel, the station caretaker, that Sara was currently staying in one of the dorm-like rooms at LaSelva. He wondered if he should ask her to move in to the little house he had been assigned or at the very least, come stay with him so he could continue to hold her at night until she was ready for more.

Surreptitiously, Grissom glanced at the woman next to him; she was absently nodding at seemingly appropriate intervals at the rather long winded story about a monkey and a research lab from the man on her other side, one of the ecological studies grad students from Duke who reminded him of a younger, less sensitive, more pompous David Hodges. Sleeping separately, even though it was just sleeping, felt like a step backwards. At the same time, he didn't want to pressure her or have her think he was pressuring her, anyway.

As the scenery became slightly more familiar and the path very much more obviously traveled, he hitched his pack, slipping his thumbs between the straps and his shoulders, enjoying the momentary relief of direct pressure. Maybe if he...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of deep barking, followed by an equally deep voice spewing, even to his limited ear, intense and colorful curses in Spanish. Before he could fully process what was happening, Hank rounded the corner of the outer gardens of the station, tongue lolling, unmanned leash flying behind him and in his wake, Miguel, running, cursing and panting. The Boxer let out an excited yelp and launched himself at Sara. Between the pack in the back and the dog in front, Sara ended up on her behind in the middle of the path with a very excited Hank trying to lick every inch of her face. She looked stunned for a moment, but the reality of the large animal attempting to take up residence in her lap seemed to push its way through her shock.

"Boy! Oh, it's my big boy!"

"Is that a dog or a horse?" the grad student questioned with some disdain as Sara continued to make much over the four legged bundle of excitement.

"Dr. Grissom, I'm sorry." Miguel was bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air. "I guess he heard your voices. He broke free of my hold."

"Since we were his objective, I don't think there's much harm done." Grissom smiled as the love of his life continued to rub their pet, while introducing him to other members of the team as they approached. "Thank you for picking him up."

"Picking him up?" Sara questioned, struggling to her feet.

Somewhat belatedly, Grissom extended her a hand. "Hank didn't handle the travel well. When we got here, the customs officers wanted him to spend a few days with a local vet to make sure it wasn't anything more than travel sickness." He reached down and gave the animal a vigorous ear rub. "Miguel agreed to pick him up when the vet cleared him."

Sara bestowed her brightest smile on the young caretaker. "Thank you, Miguel."

"El gusto es mio, Sara." The man returned her smile, unmindful of Grissom's quick frown. "He is a good dog."

Smiling softly, she looked at Grissom as she answered. "He's much more than that."

They parted ways with the rest of the group and Grissom lead her towards his bungalow with Hank trotting happily in front of them, content to be on the leash now that the right people were holding it. She was silent, but smiling, looking at him with unreserved happiness for the first time.

Grissom unclipped the dog's leash once they were inside the screen porch and the canine plopped down on his bed and turned his attention to the chewy resting beside it. Shaking his head slightly, Grissom opened the door to the house and allowed Sara to pass through. When he turned around from closing it, he found himself crowded up against the portal with Sara pressed up against him, kissing him every bit as passionately as he had kissed her when he walked into her camp five days previously.

"Wha--?" He started to ask, but then cursed himself for being a fool and asking any questions. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.

To say Sara was much more enthused this time would have been a major understatement. Their packs and his hat were dropped haphazardly on the floor and he felt her lips on his bare chest before he even realized she had unbuttoned his shirt. He groaned as her tongue rubbed against his nipple as her hands pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Lust and longing shot through him and he found himself hardening as he heard more than felt the slight clink of metal against metal as she released his belt buckle and freed the button of his pants. He started to come to his senses when he felt the air against his skin as his pants were pushed out of the way to pool at his feet and felt her kissing her way down his stomach. When she dropped to her knees, he choked out. "Sara, honey..."

"You're really staying with me." Her eyes were luminous as she looked up at him. "You brought the boy."

Touching her cheek with gentle fingers, he nodded. "I am. I did." He stroked her hair. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere. Well, unless you go somewhere." She turned her head to kiss his thigh and his erection brushed against her cheek, causing him to groan. "Come back up here and kiss me."

"Let me, please?" She was pumping him with one hand as she looked at him. "I want to taste you. I've missed how you taste." She sighed and he felt the breath against his hardness and he groaned again, then she took him into her mouth and his entire body pulsed in response. Part of his brain registered how absurd he must look, pressed against the door, pants around his ankles, but the rest of his nervous system was simply experiencing the mouth and hands of Sara Sidle devouring him. And he loved being devoured. Her mouth was hot and wet, wet and hot, sinking onto him and pulling back off; the wet suction of her lips making lewd sounds as one hand worked in tandem with her mouth and the other cradled his balls.

He had never known a woman that enjoyed giving head as much as Sara did. The problem was it felt so damned good. Not that that was normally a problem, but he knew he should be making love to her, not letting her blow him fully clothed. Gritting his teeth and gathering his will he pushed against her shoulders, indicating she should release. She did so, albeit reluctantly, he could tell.

"What?" She began pressing kisses over his shaft.

"I need you to stop. I want to make love to you." He tugged on the sleeve of her blouse. "And I'd kind of like to see you naked while I'm doing it."

Laughing, she shrugged out of her blouse as he untied his boots just enough to toe them off and then divest himself of his khakis and boxers. She stood and began to wriggle out of her own khakis when she froze. Slowly, eyes wide, pants half way down her ass, she turned in a slow, deliberate circle. "This is our furniture." Stacks of moving boxes were scattered throughout the room, but the majority of the furniture from their Vegas home was now in their Costa Rican one.

"Yeah, I had most of it shipped. Some of it is still at the townhouse." He came up behind her and kissed her neck.

"That's our couch." She sounded amazed.

He nodded as his hands came up to cup her breasts through her bra. "Mmm-hmm." He pressed his erection against her, rubbing shamelessly.

She turned in his arms, eyes blazing. "We," her tone was lascivious and excited, "could fuck on our couch." Her hands skimmed over her hips and pants and panties were gone. Vaguely he wondered when she had shed her boots but at the sight of her long, long legs and the dark curls covering her sex, he decided he didn't really care if she ever wore boots, or anything else, again. Then her words permeated the fog of desire surrounding his brain and he remembered her question from his first night at camp.

He turned her in his arms. "Could we do that later? Right now I'd like to make love to you in our bed."

"You brought our bed?" The look she gave him was somewhere between sentimental and steamy.

"Yes." He grasped her hips; he loved her legs and her breasts and her neck and her beautiful face, but he had a serious thing for her hips. He loved to touch them, clothed or naked. But when she was nude, he especially loved to rest his hands on her hips, rub his thumb slowly over her hipbones and see the contrast between his tanned fingers and her pale, pale skin.

She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Then, yes. Please."

The energy between them seemed to change in that moment. Things slowed down, hushed, became softer around the edges as though the moment were wrapped in a gauzy scarf by Time herself and tucked away amongst her most treasured possessions.

Reverently, he lifted Sara into his arms.

He carried her through to the bedroom and placed her on the bed, following her down to the mattress, moving to lie between her thighs. There was no hurry, no rush as he ran his hands over her freckled shoulders and her fingers tested the skin of his chest, traced his nipples, tickled his throat.

Looking into her eyes, he pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed a firm kiss to her palm. Her smile trembled as she held both arms open, welcoming him home, into her embrace.

Grissom unhooked her bra as he kissed his way along her collarbone, but drew back long enough for her to draw it down her arms and drop it off the side of the bed. They kissed as they touched each other. Slow languorous kisses, deep and wet. Lips sliding against lips, tongues stroking tongues, lazy and hot. Hands and fingers wandered over arms, circled nipples, entwined in hair and still, they kissed.

They may have spent the whole afternoon into evening kissing, he wasn't sure as he pressed his skin to her skin and felt her press back. There was nothing that mattered but them; he felt as if he had been party to a miracle. Somehow Sara believed in him again, trusted him again and this time he trusted himself and allowed himself to fall completely into her, into them, into love.

Finally, he felt her hand close around him and she pumped him, once, twice. Then she ran the head of his penis along her wet folds and he groaned even as he kept kissing her. After a few strokes of that exquisite torture she brought his cock to her slick opening and he pushed inside of her.

Their kiss finally broken they both gave satisfied moans and Grissom sank into her, parting her inner muscles as he moved into her warm wetness until he was fully inside her. She was tight, god, he had forgotten how tight Sara was. The feel of her wet heat gripping him made him want to pull out and pound into her, over and over, drive into her without stopping, claim her over and over with his body. It took every bit of strength he had not to, but instead to hold still. Sweat began to pop out on his forehead as he mastered the desire to thrust into her, not to move at all.

"Gil?" Her voice was a combination of query and desire, her foot rubbing against his calf.

"This is what we're like, Sara." His gaze bore into her, honest and soft but his voice was raspy, almost harsh, stretched by the war between desire and self control. "I can't help the past; I was scared, I was stupid." He heard her breath catch and release softly. "I ran, I pushed you away, I don't know. But this…" He pressed against her a little harder. "This is what we're like, Sara."

He touched his lips to her forehead, then each of her flushed cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin. "I'm a slow learner, but I have learned. I'm only whole when I'm with you." He watched as her eyes closed, as a tear leaked out of either eye. Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers. "This is what we're like, Sara. Whole together and together always."

Lips trembling, her eyes opened. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He kissed the side of her mouth. "So very much." He licked her lower lip. "I'm sorry I never let you know how much."

Grasping his face in both of her hands, she pressed her lips to his. "I know now."

They kissed again, tender and sweet. Then mouths opened, hot and hungry. The heat between them built again and slowly, entwined, they began to rock together, never moving apart but still building a rhythm.

Sara wound her legs around his waist, taking him deeper into her body when he had not thought it possible; he knew she was finding pleasure in him being so far inside her and the way his pelvic bone rubbed against her clit with every movement of their joined bodies.

It was slow at first, exquisite, delicious and agonizing as they moved together whispering words of love and longing to each other. But soon need overcame tenderness and the pace increased with lavish intensity.

Sliding his hands beneath her body he gripped her ass, bringing them closer, moving their bodies in tandem. The lush heat of her body made him groan over and over and she answered with low needy moans and tensing muscles around his cock. Maneuvering their bodies in sync, every muscle in his body quaked as they swayed in their unified dance…the pull and thrust of their bodies in perfect harmony, over and over, never parting, just closer, closer, closer. He felt the quiver of her vaginal muscles as she approached orgasm, her moans became cries and her cries became keening and still they moved together, together, together.

Rubbing, rocking, riding, writhing they moved building up sensation after sensation, desire twisting between them, building, building, tightening, tightening until every nerve ending in his body was crying out for release and Sara was crying out beneath him. As he felt her orgasm pulse through her, he finally let go, arching into her hard, feeling the pull of her muscles as they rippled over his cock and his body answered, pulsing into her over and over again, as he groaned his love into her neck.

He collapsed onto her, sweaty, heavy, exhausted and more in love than he had ever been. "_This_ is what we're like." He kissed her neck, the side of her face. "Together. In love. Forever."


End file.
